


Cold Feet

by wanheda_two_heda



Series: Song Fics [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Past Relationship(s), all the feels, high school sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-12-13 02:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanheda_two_heda/pseuds/wanheda_two_heda
Summary: Clarke is happy with Wells and with their upcoming wedding, but she doesn't have the butterflies, the excited jitters, any of the things that would indicate that she's truly about to marry the man of her dreams.But everything makes sense when she gets a letter in the mail from the man who stole her heart from the minute she laid eyes on him, giving her one last chance to make things right. And suddenly, Clarke knows why marrying Wells doesn't feel right--because she's still in love with someone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts

**i)**

 

“Clarke?” Abby asks. 

Clarke stops chasing her green beans around her plate and looks up questioningly at her mom. From the look on Abby’s face, it’s clear that it’s not the first time she’s called her daughter’s name. 

“Sorry, what?” Clarke asks, blinking out of her daze.

“You okay?” Wells asks from beside her. He reaches for her hand under the table and squeezes it affectionately.

“Yeah, fine,” she says with a smile, lacing her fingers through her finaces’. “What were you asking, Mom?”

“If you and Wells had settled on your plans for the honeymoon,” she says, wiping the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin as she sets her cutlery across her plate.

“Yeah,” Clarke says with an excitement she doesn’t entirely feel. “The travel agent called me back yesterday to confirm that everything was reserved and good to go. We’ve got the most beautiful resort in Nassau. The honeymoon condo is right on the beach. The water’s so blue. It’ll be nice to get away for a week.”

“Our flight leaves right out of Polis International with a connection in TonDC, and then straight to the Bahamas,” Wells chimes in. “We’ve got a hotel right near the airport for the night of the wedding, and then our flight takes off at nine the next morning.”

He’s so excited that Clarke feels guilty for the worry that’s been slowly pooling in her gut for weeks now. She knows that Wells is great. He’s got a good job, one that offers benefits and stability, he comes from a family much like her own, and he’s Clarke best friend. It’s only natural she marries someone she’s been close with all her life. She loves him. He’s  _ good _ , good for her, and she loves him, but she feels like that’s not enough, like she doesn’t love him  _ enough _ .

Raven assures her that it’s just cold feet, just pre-wedding jitters, and that it will all pass once Clarke and Wells are on their honeymoon, lounging in the sun and drinking Caribbean rum. But Clarke doesn’t know how to tell her that she’s had the same feeling, the same fear, ever since the day Wells proposed. She’d said yes on instinct, accepted without thinking about what saying yes could mean. It’s almost like regret--regret and fear that she’s keeping Wells from being with someone who loves him the way he deserves to be loved. The feeling’s gotten worse, has only started to really weigh down in the pit of her stomach, since the wedding preparations have been finalized. It’s real. It’s happening. And there’s no way out. She realizes, too late, that she’s gone back to staring at her plate.

* * *

“One more month,” Abby says excitedly, bracing Clarke’s shoulders. “One more month, and it’ll be June eighteenth. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle. Gosh, you’re so beautiful already; I can’t even imagine seeing you in your dress.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Clarke says, ducking her head to hide her blush. “It’ll be good.”

“I can’t believe my baby is getting married.” Abby tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Wells is a good guy, and you’re both going to be so happy together.”

“I know, Mom,” she says, because she does know that Wells is good. He’s great. But maybe he’s just not the greatest for her.

“We’re so proud of you,” Jake says, pulling his daughter into a hug. “Of both of you. I can’t wait to welcome you into our family, Wells.”

  
  


**ii)**

 

“Hey, Wells?” Clarke calls from the kitchen as she puts away the last of the dishes from dinner.

“Yeah, babe?” he calls back from his study.

“I’m gonna head over to Raven’s. Her dress came in today, and she wants me there when she tries it on.”

She takes the letter off the counter, the one she’s been staring at for three days but hasn’t opened yet. Clarke tucks it into her back pocket and takes her keys off the hook by the door.

“Okay! See you when you come home!”

She’s already outside when she hears his answer, and doesn’t bother to call anything back. The drive to Raven’s is short, punctuated by flashes of lightning and the silent, rhythmic tapping of rain on her windshield. The wipers move in time with the beat of her heart, too fast for normal, but not so fast that she needs to worry--not yet. It’s her new reality, this rapid beating of her heart whenever she thinks of marrying Wells. She wishes, more than anything, that it could be the good kind of racing heart, the kind that comes with knowing that you’re going to marry the person you’re completely in love with. But it’s not.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she parks in Raven’s driveway.

* * *

“Clarke,” Raven snaps. “You either need to stop pacing, or tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s stupid,” Clarke says, her head falling into her hands as she sits on the edge of Raven’s bed.

“It’s not stupid,” Raven assures, squeezing Clarke’s shoulder. “Tell me.”

Clarke shifts to pull the tattered letter out of her back pocket and hands it to Raven.

“What is this?” Raven asks, looking at the letter and all the creases through it. “It’s just a letter, Clarke. You haven’t even opened it. How could this be so bad?”

“It’s because--” Clarke exhales sharply, taking the letter back. She unfolds the envelope and stares at the address on the front. Her’s isn’t the surprising one; it’s the return address--the address she hasn’t seen in so long--that has her in a flurry of emotions. She runs her index finger over the name--Bellamy Blake. She hasn’t seen him in years, hasn’t since--

“Clarke? Are you gonna open it?”

She keeps running her finger over the name as her heart aches for the world she once knew, and the love she once felt. Bellamy Blake. It’s been so long. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.” She slides off the bed to sit on the floor and hugs her knees to her chest. Clarke takes a deep breath and slides her finger under the sealed flap.

The letter inside is written on regular printer paper, folded into four perfect rectangles, nevermind all the creases Clarke put through it. She hesitates before unfolding it.

“Do you want me to give you a minute?” Raven asks.

“Would you? Just refill our wine?”

“You can do this, Clarke.”

When the door clicks shut, Clarke finally unfolds the final fold and looks at the words scrawled across the page in a cursive she knows almost as well as her own.

* * *

 

_ Clarke, _

 

~~_ I know it’s been a long time. I hear you’re getting married soon. I want to say congratulations. I hope you’re happy. _ ~~

 

~~_ I should have reached out sooner, but I had no idea how. _ ~~

 

_ I love you, Clarke. I’ve always loved you. I heard that you’re getting married soon, and I wish I could be happy for you, but I can’t, because you should be marrying me. God, Clarke, I’ve been in love with you all my life, and I know that you’ve always loved me, too. I can’t imagine there’s a world in which we’re not in love with each other. _

_ I messed up. I know I did. I should have told you about enlisting. I should have called you and written to you every single day that I was gone. I should have run to you the minute I came back. But I saw things, and I did things, and I didn’t think you could ever love the person I’d become. I should have reminded you how much you’ve always meant to me, but I was young, and stupid, and now I might be losing you forever. _

_ I know you don’t have any reason to, but I need to try, because if I let you go without putting up a fight, I’ll hate myself forever, so please, Clarke, if you have cold feet, I’m begging you to hear me out. Come meet me at our old spot, a week from now, at ten. I’ll wait for you. If you’re not there by midnight, I’ll know that you’re happy in your new life, and I’ll let you go. But if, for any reason at all, you’re not sure about this marriage, I’ll be waiting for you. _

_ I love you, _

 

_ Bellamy _

* * *

 

Clarke lets the letter fall to the ground as she wraps her arms around herself and cries. She knew that opening the letter, reading anything that Bellamy has to say would make her doubts about marrying Wells so much more concrete. She’s loved Bellamy since they were in high school, loved him since before their first date, since the day he enlisted in the Army out of duty or honor or whatever he told her. She loved him every day that he was gone, and every one of the two thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine days he’s ignored her since coming back.

“Clarke?” Raven asks, coming back into the room. She hears her friend put the wine glasses down on her dresser, and then suddenly Raven is beside her, holding her tight. “Clarke, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not,” Clarke sobs. “I shouldn’t have read the stupid letter. It’s so ridiculous.” She gives a shaky, watery laugh, and wipes her eyes. “I should have known he’d do something like this.”

“Who, hun?”

“My ex. Or, I don’t know. We never broke up, so is he really my ex?” she laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Okay, explain.” Raven settles in beside her.

“It’s been more than six years; does it even matter?”

“It does if it’s making you cry.”

“He’s my high school sweetheart. God, how cliche is that? We met in high school when I was friends with his little sister. We started dating when I was a junior, we went to college together, and then after graduation, when we were planning on moving in together, he tells me that he’s enlisted and that they’re deploying him to Iraq. I wrote him, and called him, and he called back for the first bit, but then they started sending him out on missions more often, and he called less and less, and then he just stopped calling altogether. I didn’t even know when he came back. I was in Polis one day, and he was just walking into a grocery store like nothing had ever happened, and I didn’t exist.”

“Clarke,” Raven sighs, hugging her tight.

“I love Wells, I really do. And I should marry him. I’ll be happy with Wells. We’ve been friends for so long, and he’s always been there for me, and he loves me so much.”

“But you love Bellamy.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to go meet him?”

“I don’t know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**iii)**

 

“Clarke?” Wells’ hand squeezes her knee gently.

She shakes herself out of her daze with a smile. “I’m sorry. I must have zoned out for a minute. This wedding planning is draining,” she lies effortlessly.

“We should have a spa day this weekend,” Abby says. “You need to relax before your big day. Let someone else run the show for a couple hours.”

“Yeah, Mom,” she answers with a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “That sounds nice.”

“Great. I’ll call the spa and book us in.” Her mother looks pleased with her plan, and Clarke would be too, but her mind is elsewhere. 

She looks at the clock. It’s almost nine-thirty, and Wells and her father are still deep in conversation. She still doesn’t know if she’s going to meet Bellamy, but she knows that her time is running out. She’d hardly been able to sleep since opening the letter, tossing and turning and spending her nights staring at the ceiling. She’d always thought that she’d marry Bellamy. They’d planned out their entire future together before he’d deployed. It had taken her a long time to get over the fact that she could never be with him the way she’d always thought she would. But now, at the worst possible moment, Bellamy had come back, he’d said all the things she’d spent six years waiting to hear, and she can’t pretend that she’s not affected by his words. She only has two weeks before her wedding, and no matter what, someone’s heart is going to get broken--she’s just not sure whose she can break. She loves Wells. Like she told Raven, they’d been friends for so long, and she knows that he’d take care of her and that she’d have a happy life with him. She’s just not sure that it’s the life she wants. Things with Bellamy were always rocky, filled with ups and downs and fights followed by messy make ups, but she’d loved him so fiercely that she doubts she’ll ever be able to forget it.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says, interrupting her fiance’s conversation with her parents. “I completely forgot that I promised Raven I’d stop by tonight.”

It’s a lie, but they don’t question her. Why would they? She’s always been honest with her family, and they don’t know the secret that she’s hiding. 

“More wedding details?” Wells askes with a soft smile. 

“We can pick this up next time you come by for dinner,” her father says to the man on her right.

“Absolutely.”

Wells shakes her father’s hand as she hugs her mother goodbye.

“Bye, Dad,” she says when she reaches him, and he pulls her in for a tight hug. 

For a second, she considers telling him everything that’s been on her mind. Jake had always loved Bellamy like a son, and Clarke knows that her father would hear her out without any kind of judgement, and the prospect of having someone there to support her is so appealing that it almost hurts.

“Ready to go, babe?” Wells says, the front door already open.

Clarke finally lets go over her dad. “See you soon,” she tells her parents.

* * *

 

“Do you want me to drop you off at Raven’s so you’re not late? I can pick you up later, if you’d like,” Wells offers once they’re seated in the car and buckled in.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take my car when we get home. I don’t know how late I’ll be out, so I don’t want you to stay up and wait.” That much is true, but all that she’s not telling him solidifies in her gut and makes her feel sick. She should tell him, but she can’t.

The drive home is silent, and she lets Wells kiss her sweetly on the mouth before getting into her own car and driving off towards Raven’s--and Bellamy’s--side of town. 

Every red light she stops at makes her hesitate. She should turn around. She should go home. She should climb into bed next to the man who loves her. She shouldn’t be sneaking around behind her fiance’s back to meet the man who broke her heart so many years ago. It’s what she’s still telling herself when she parks her car a block from the park where she used to spend days on end with Bellamy, and despite all the reasons she has to leave, she locks the car and walks towards the green space that borders the river, where she knows Bellamy will be waiting.

* * *

 

It doesn’t take her long to find him, her feet taking the familiar path almost without a single command from her brain. She finds him under the branches of a centuries-old willow, standing on the river bank throwing rocks into the silent water. She stops before he can hear the crunch of the rocks beneath her shoes and takes him in. He’s changed so much. His hair is longer, shaggier, and his shoulders are so much more defined than she remembers them being. 

He turns before she can will herself to take the final steps to meet him, almost as if he’d known that she was standing there. He freezes when he sees her, and her heart lodges in her throat. She’s missed him so much. Swallowing thickly, she steps off the path and closer to the man who’d left her behind so many years ago.

“Clarke,” he says when she’s finally in front of him. He’s quiet, disbelieving. 

She wants to reach out to him and touch his face, make sure it’s really him, but she forces herself to keep her hands by her side. His eyes are just as brown and just as deep as she remembers them being, his gaze holding hers from the moment she meets his eyes. Freckles still dot his face like stars at night, and the bit of scruff he’s grown shows his age, how much time has passed since she last looked upon this face.

“Bell,” she whispers, and they’re both so caught up in their trance that neither can move or talk.

She watches as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, finally breaks their gaze and drops her head. She doesn’t want him to see the tears that have started to collect in the corners of her eyes. But this is Bellamy, and he’s always known her, so before she can say anything, he closes the gap between them and wraps her up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her so tightly that she think she might break.

She lets her arms go around him, allows herself to hide her face against the side of his neck, and finally cries like she’s been wanting to since reading his letter. They don’t move, save for Bellamy’s calm rocking side to side as she sobs and fights for a tighter grip on the back of his shirt.

“God, Clarke, I never should have let you go,” he says, and she can hear how broken he is, too, how she’s not the only one crying. 

His words bring on a fresh wave of tears. His voice is the same, unchanged after so many years. He sounds just like she remembers even though she’d forgotten the sound of him saying her name up until seconds ago.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Bellamy Blake,” she manages once she’s regained her composure. “I’m getting married.”

“I had to see you again.” he says, still not ready to release her. “I had to try.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the best thing I ever had and the biggest mistake I ever made.”

“Bellamy.” Her voice cracks in the middle of his name. “You could have come back years ago. I waited for you. I spent days and weeks and months and  _ years _ waiting for you to come back.”

“Fuck, Clarke, I wanted to,” he says, stepping back and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Then why didn’t you?” she asks, wrapping her arms around herself to stop herself from reaching for him again and walking over to sit at the base of their tree.

He paces in front of her, his hands in his hair. “Because I wasn’t the same when I came back. The things I did, Princess… What I saw… I didn’t want you to have to live with who I’d become.”

“But it wasn’t fair for you to make that choice for me, Bell,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. “I loved you. I would have been there for you.”

“But I didn’t want you to have to take care of me. I wanted things to go back to how they were, but I knew that they couldn’t because I wasn’t me anymore.”

“You should have told me. You should have let me decide.”

“I know,” he says, sitting beside her, leaving a wide gap between them. “I know, and I hate that I didn’t. I picked up the phone to call you so many times, and every time, I convinced myself that you didn’t want to hear from me, so I never called.”

“I missed you. You broke my heart. When I realized that you weren’t coming back… Fuck, Bellamy, you hurt me so much,” she says through her tears. 

She wants him to reach out for her, to comfort her, but she’s glad that he doesn’t. He stares at his feet, his elbows on his knees, unable to meet her eyes.

“You’re getting married,” he says finally, like he’s just stating another fact. Which, she supposes, he is.

“I am. Wells proposed almost a year ago.”

“You’re marrying Wells?” he asks, his brow furrowed as he pulls further from her.

“Why does it matter who I’m getting married to, Bellamy?”

“Because you never loved Wells,” he says, louder, standing up to step even further away from her.

“I do,” she says, angry as she gets to her feet to get closer to him. “I do love him, and you don’t get to tell me who I do and don’t love. You don’t get to tell me anything about my life, Bellamy, because you walked out of it.”

He laughs bitterly. “I bet you’re real fucking happy with him, aren’t you? Bet Mommy really approves of this one.”

“My mother loved you.”

“She never wanted you with me, and you know it. I was never going to be good enough for you. But that’s all okay now, because you’re marrying a good little rich boy like you should.”

“Don’t start this, Bellamy,” she warns.

“Why? Because you know it’s true?”

“No, because you and I had our entire life set out, and my family loved you, and I was happy, and  _ you’re _ the one who walked away, not me. You’re the one who left. I never wanted that. I never wanted you to walk away, and neither did my parents, especially not when they saw what it was like for me after you were gone. But you left, and then Wells came back into my life, and maybe he’s not perfect, but I do love him, and I know that he can make me happy, and that has nothing to do with parents or money or where he went to college, or whatever other bullshit reason you’re going to come up with to justify what you did. So, if you just asked me out here to pick a fight, I think I’m going to go, because I’ve heard just about all that I needed to hear. You’re still the same. You haven’t changed, but I have, and I’m happy, so I’m not going to stay here and have you criticize my life choices when I could be at home with the man I’m going to marry in two weeks.”

She spins on her heel and makes to storm off back to her car, but Bellamy catches her wrist and pulls her back to him.

“Let go of me,” she hisses.

“No,” he says, his eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down her spine.

“Why not?” she challenges, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Because you don’t love him like you loved me,” he says.

“Fuck you,” she spits. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he says, holding her angry gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll let you go back, but I know I’m not. I’m not wrong, Princess, because you’re here with me instead of safe and warm in bed with him. You’re always going to be it for me, Clarke, just like how I’ll always be it for you, and you know it, too, or else you never would have come, tonight.”

“Bellamy,” she says, her resistance failing as her bottom lip wobbles.

His thumb comes up to trace her mouth, and he drops her wrist to hold her face between his hands. 

“Bellamy,” she says again, and this time it’s more of a warning, because she knows what he’s about to start, and she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to stop it.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he urges, his voice a mere whisper, but she can’t bring herself to say the words he’s asking for, because she knows they’re not true.

Instead, she shakes her head as much as she can between his large palms, and it’s all the confirmation he needs that she still loves him before he closes the distance between them and ever so gently presses his mouth to hers. His lips are chapped, and he tastes just like she remembers, though the beard is a new sensation. His mouth moves in sync with hers, a dance they could never quite forget.

Clarke whines as his tongue darts out to brush along her lower lip, and he reciprocates with a low moan of his own. Clarke’s hands slide into his hair as he reaches down to squeeze her hips affectionately. 

“I still love you,” he says against her lips, and Clarke hides her face against his shoulder to hide that she’s crying again.

“I’m getting married, Bell. It’s too late.”

“No,” he says, his voice breaking. “No, it’s not. I can make you happy, Clarke. I’ll take care of you. You know that we’re good together.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. I have to go.”

“Don’t,” he begs, catching her mouth in a wet, salty kiss. 

This time, Clarke kisses him back in earnest, her arms tight around her neck, chasing the familiar brush of his tongue against hers. She gasps when his thumb slides over the skin of her hip beneath her shirt, and he chuckles into her mouth. He’d always known how to drive her crazy.

“I have to go, Bell,” she says when she finally pulls away. 

He rests his forehead against hers, his breathing laboured. “I had to try to get you back.”

She cups his cheek in her palm, doesn’t want to break their closeness, but knowing that she has to go back to Wells eventually.

“In another life,” she offers quietly, the only bit of hope she can afford to give him. “Goodbye, Bellamy.”

He lets her go, and she makes herself run back to her car out of fear that she’ll turn around and go back to him. Clarke cries the whole way home, her heart torn in two, one part at home in bed with her fiance, and the other under the willow by the river with the first man she ever loved.

* * *

 

**iv)**

 

“You look beautiful, Clarke,” Abby says with tears of joy as she fastens the back of Clarke’s white dress. 

The wedding gown is elegant in its simplicity, reaching only to Clarke’s knees. Her shoulders are covered in a delicate lace, the scoop neckline leaving her collarbones exposed. Her heels are short, simple, and her hair pulled back into a carefully messy bun. She looks soft, gentle, ethereal, and sad.

“Mom, can I have a minute with Raven?” she asks.

“Of course, sweetheart,” her mother says with a smile. “I’ll see you in the church,”

“You went to see him,” Raven says the minute Abby is gone.

“It’s that obvious?” Clarke asks with a grimace.

“Fuck, Clarke, I’ve never seen anyone look so devastated to be marrying their best friend.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Clarke admits in a tiny voice.

“Oh, babe,” Raven says, stepping forward to pull Clarke into a tight hug. “Does Wells know?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I’m an awful person, aren’t I?”

“No, Clarke,” Raven says soothingly. “No, you’re not. You’re just in love with the wrong guy.”

“What if I’m not in love with the wrong guy?” Clarke dares to ask. “What if I’m just marrying the wrong one?”

“What’s your heart telling you?”

Clarke looses a sob. “I can’t marry him.”

Raven holds her tightly as the realization hits home, the realization that had been building for the last two weeks since Clarke had kissed Bellamy, since before she’d even laid eyes on him that night. No matter how much time passes, or who she meets, or where she goes, she’ll always be in love with Bellamy. And it’s not fair to Wells to marry him knowing that she’ll never be able to give him the love that he deserves.

“I have to go,” Clarke says, pulling away.

“What about everyone waiting for you downstairs? What about Wells?”

“Tell them something came up and that I had to go. Tell Wells… tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I’ll talk to him as soon as I figure all of this out.”

“Clarke,” Raven warns. “There’s no going back from this.”

“I know.”

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Rae.”

“Then take my car,” the brunette says, tossing Clarke the keys. “Go.”

Clarke doesn’t need to be told twice. She grabs the keys and takes off into the pouring rain to find Raven’s car and run back to the life she thought she’d lost forever.

* * *

 

She’s soaked to the bone as she runs up the steps to Bellamy’s front door. Her dress clings to her as she pounds her fist heavily against the wooden door, but no one answers. She should have known, but refused to be discouraged when she didn’t see a car in the driveway.

“Bellamy,” she pleads, knocking again and jiggling the door handle. It doesn’t turn. 

She sits down on the front step, her hair coming undone and water running down her face in rivulets. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, but she’s shaking and frozen from the early summer rain by the time she hears tires turn into the driveway. She looks up, but can’t meet his eyes through the rain coming down on the car. He opens his door and comes out, looks at her, but doesn’t move.

“Clarke?”

She’s on her feet and running towards him instantly. He catches her and doesn’t have time to react before she’s on the tips of her toes, capturing his mouth in the hungry kiss she’d been hoping for but hadn’t chased two weeks prior.

“Clarke, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be getting married. Your dress is ruined.”

“It’s you, Bell,” is all she can say, her eyes wide with excitement, her heart hammering in her chest to confirm her choice. “It’s always been you.”

He kisses her firmly as he walks her backwards towards the house. 

“I couldn’t do it,” she tells him as he unlocks the door. “I couldn’t get married. I love you, Bellamy.”

He takes her face between his hands and kisses her deeply. “Fuck,” he gasps when he pulls back. “I thought I’d never get to hear you say that again.”

“I love you,” she tells him softly and presses a kiss to his collarbone through his wet shirt.

He scoops her up into his arms and carries her over the threshold into the dry warmth of his tiny house. “I love you, too, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who stuck with this fic and waited the ages it took me to finish part 2! I love each and every one of you and all of your comments and kudos! Thank you thank you thank you!


End file.
